Somewhere in the Shadows
by souffles-and-bowties
Summary: When the Doctor receives an anonymous distress call, he and Clara go to investigate-only to find themselves trapped in a world filled with nothing but trouble. And something's lurking in the shadows of the forest. Something that the Doctor truly hopes, for once, will never reveal itself. Warning: Possible Whouffle overloads, spoilers for the Name of the Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So I decided to start another fanfiction, just because I felt like it. I'll still be updating my other one, don't worry, just a lot less often (I'm horrible with commitment). And I did realize, when I read through this first chapter, that it's pretty similar to Night Terrors. Seriously, I didn't mean to do that, but I guess it just happened...**

**And sadly, I don't own Doctor Who. If I did, Clara and 11 would stay forever.**

Clara had always had a thing for libraries. She wasn't sure when it had started, and she wasn't sure _why_ it had started, but she constantly found herself leaned back in a chair, book propped open, without even realizing she had taken a single step from the console room. The Doctor didn't understand how she could sit around for hours and read a story about something that didn't even exist. He said that he wouldn't be surprised if Clara had taken a liking to the history of Raxacoricofallapatorius, or maybe the legend of the Pandorica, but Victorian teenage diaries? Vampire stories? It simply didn't make sense. At least to him.

After a few weeks, the TARDIS began shifting books around, trying to keep them out of Clara's grasp. Clara found it completely insane and outrageous, but every time she complained about it, the TARDIS would hum innocently, and the Doctor would forgive the old cow. And so, without the pleasure of reading, cooking (the oven had simply vanished), listening to music (the only thing Clara could ever hear was static), chatting on the phone (there was no phone anymore), and adventuring (the Doctor had firmly declared that Clara needed rest after the events of Trenzalore), the young companion grew to become quite bored. Hanging around the console room wasn't an option, and she had already tried out helping the Doctor make repairs (which hadn't ended well).

But, as another month passed, Clara got used to the quietness, the sound of the TARDIS' constant hum, and the few loud bangs of the Doctor dropping something on his foot a few rooms away. In fact, it began to get a bit...comfortable. Relaxing.

Which meant that at exactly 5:12 AM on November 15th, when the loud blaring sound filled the TARDIS, Clara practically had a heart attack.

Her eyes shot open before she had fully woken up, and she was already on her feet, chair in hand, aimed towards her bedroom door, which had swung open with a loud gush. The Doctor burst in, safety goggles still perched on his head, and waved his arms around in excitement.

"It's a distress call!" he shouted. "A distress call!_ A distress call!_"

Clara relaxed, setting the chair back down, and folded her arms crossly. "I can see, Doctor. Unfortunately, I can also hear." She shot him a pointed glare, and after a long silent minute, the Doctor's eyebrows lifted expectantly.

"Hear? Hear what?"

"You know. Alarms." Clara lifted a hand and gestured towards the now quietly blinking red lights. "Oh, come on. They were shrieking, you have to have heard them." But the Doctor just gave her a blank look. Clara closed her eyes briefly. "Are you telling me that the TARDIS installed alarms in my room just to annoy me?"

Another long silence. Clara's eyebrows were practically jumping into her hairline. The TARDIS buzzed and shook indignantly. The nearby clock ticked away like a bomb.

"Come on, Clara!" the Doctor finally said, changing the subject, taking her hand and gently pulling her into the hallway. "Let's go see what's happening!"

Clara sighed, but obediently trailed along, now annoyed and still blinking away tiredness. She stumbled a few times, tripped over bags that she didn't remember was there a second ago, and finally made it to the console room after feeling generally miserable the whole walk. The moment they entered the familiar-looking room, Clara collapsed into a chair, half asleep again.

After all, it _was_ 5:00 in the morning.

Through almost closed lids, she watched the Doctor stare at the flashing monitor, then press a single button, and grab onto the railing. That was her cue. Standing up, she reaching out a hand to grip onto the nearest object she could find, and braced herself. Five seconds passed...then twenty...then a minute...then two...and nothing happened.

"Okay..." the Doctor muttered. "That's not right."

He did a quick scan of the TARDIS door, then examined his results. His eyes narrowed even further.

"Definitely not right."

"Why? What's wrong?" Clara asked, half-hopping, half-stumbling over. The Doctor walked to the door and extended an arm, hand pressed against it, hesitant. He shared a look with Clara (who was still completely baffled) and pulled it open, immediately jumping back, as if the air outside was toxic.

Clara peered over his shoulder. Tall buildings, cars whizzing by, large green sign that said...

"Los Angeles?!" she exclaimed. "Why are we in Los Angeles?"

"Because apparently that's where the distress call is coming from," the Doctor murmured.

"But...why no shaking? Why was the landing perfectly smooth?"

The Doctor frowned. "I...must have...forgotten to leave the breaks on..."

His face took on kind of a sad expression. But before Clara could reply to that completely ridiculous sentence, the Doctor gave a quick shake of his head, and hopped onto the soft grass in front of them, tugging his companion along. "Let's go investigate!" he exclaimed, smile just slightly strained now.

"What exactly are we investigating?" Clara asked, glancing around at her surroundings.

"Well," the Doctor said. "I don't really know."

He drew out his sonic screwdriver, and spun in a circle, scanning the area. Almost as if a force was pulling him forward, he began walking, turning lefts and rights with eyes only fixed on his glowing green tool. Clara, being pulled along, examined the city.

She had imagined it to be more...glamorous. But there were plenty of run-down houses, old buildings, and smoke in the air. It was a pretty city, just slightly disappointing. Clara was never going to trust a postcard picture again. Giving someone hope, then taking it away

In front of her, the Doctor froze, and Clara, who hadn't been paying much attention to him, nearly had her arm yanked out of her socket from the sudden stop. "Ow," she complained. "You know, you should really give a warning when you do that."

"Clara," the Doctor murmured.

"What? It's true."

"Clara, look.

Clara stared at him for a long minute, then turned slowly and lifted her head, gaze skimming across the large building in front of her. It would've been a perfectly normal building, except on the far right side, painted in deep red paint, were the words: HELP ME.

* * *

"It's just an apartment building, Doctor! Everyone's happy! And there are hundreds of rooms, how are we going to find the person who sent the message?" Clara complained for the twentieth time that hour. "I mean, is it a child? A girl? A boy? An old lady?"

"We'll split up," the Doctor suggested. "I'll search this side for anything out-of-the-ordinary, you search that side for anything out-of-the-ordinary. Sound good?"

Clara gave him a doubtful look. "But-"

"No but's."

"Well-"

"No well's."

"It's-"

"Oh, come on. Splitting up is the best thing since sliced bread...No, actually, forget that. That...that's rubbish. Just..." he gestured with his hands, looking completely crazy, then spun on his heel and walked off, screwdriver at the ready. Clara had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at his ridiculousness. Instead, she quickly made her way to her side of the apartment building. Something out-of-the-ordinary. Everything was out-of-the-ordinary when you were with the Doctor.

"Alrighty, then," Clara said, trying to appear enthusiastic. "Distress signal, here I come."

* * *

The Doctor scanned his screwdriver along the dark walls, and ducked into an empty hallway. Empty. That was weird. He wasn't completely positive, but he was pretty sure apartment buildings didn't have abandoned, gloomy sections that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a decade.

The Doctor fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed in Clara's number. The whole thing took him a while-he wasn't used to using phones. A few seconds later, Clara's voice echoed through the other end.

_"Hello?"_

"Ah! Clara! Find anything yet?"

_"Doctor?_"

"Yep."

_"You have a phone?_"

The Doctor sighed. "It's not exactly mine."

_"You stole a phone?!"_

"No, no, no! Of course not! I just meant...it's mine...but...do we have to have this conversation now?"

There was a slight scuffling sound. _"Okay, yeah, you're right."_

"So. Find anything?"

_"Not exactly...but I keep hearing this voice. It's a little girl's voice. She's calling for help, but I just can't find her."_

"Okay... Where are you?"

_"Um...hold on. I think... Apartment number 3017."_

"I'm heading over there, alright? Little girl's voice, you said? How old?"

_"I'm not sure. Eleven at the most, eight at the youngest."_

The Doctor maneuvered his way into the light, and pushed through a small group of people. Apartment number 3000...3001...3003...3005...turned a corner...

And then the Doctor fell over. As soon as he hit the ground, he scrambled to his feet. He had expected Clara, but instead, a ten-year-old girl with wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes stood before him, wearing a neat white dress and golden sandals. Before the Doctor could say anything, the girl turned and ran, vanishing down the hallway.

The Doctor whipped out his phone.

"Clara, she's coming your way," he said.

_"Who?"_ Clara asked.

"The girl."

* * *

She kept running, pumping her legs back and forth, heart beating frantically. She didn't know who they were, she didn't know what they were, so she didn't stop, no matter how tired she got. She needed help, she just wanted to be left alone. Nothing was right. Everything was wrong. Absolutely wrong.

The woman she saw earlier appeared around the corner, eyes filled with concern and confusion.

That was how they all looked. They pretended to be human, pretended to be caring. But they weren't. Amelie knew. She had encountered far too many.

"Wait! Stop! Please, we want to help!" the woman shouted, reaching out for Amelie's arm.

She ducked, avoided her touch just in time, and scampered onto the staircase, pulling herself up step by step. She heard a man's voice enter the noises. The man she had crashed into earlier.

"Get downstairs. Corner her."

"That's a bit harsh."

"Clara. We need to talk to her."

Amelie looked down. She was already at the top floor. When she glanced behind her, the woman had disappeared. The man was walking towards her, arm stretched. It would've been a cautious, comforting gesture, but Amelie panicked, turning and leaping forward, footsteps echoing in the air. When she crashed through the doors on the floor below, a pair of hands grabbed her, holding her tight, but not tight enough to injure.

"Let me go!" she shouted. "Just leave me alone!"

"Really, we aren't going to hurt you. You have to trust me."

"You're the enemy!"

The grip faltered for a moment, and Amelie took the chance to twist away. But as soon as she took another step, someone else took hold of her arm. The man.

"It's okay, it's okay. We won't hurt you. Promise. I do need you to calm down."

Amelie spun around to glare at him. "Who are you?" she whispered.

"I'm the Doctor. And I'm here to help."


	2. Chapter 2

Within the fifteen minutes the girl had arrived, she still hadn't touched the coffee cup. Instead, she sat there, unmoving, examining Clara and the Doctor the same way they were examining her. Curiosity, wariness, and on the girl's side, distrust. The Doctor had gestured towards her drink three times already, but Clara knew why the girl kept shaking her head.

"It's not poisoned," she informed her gently. "It's just normal coffee."

"Of course you would say that," the girl said matter-of-factly. "A man cheating on a woman would still tell her he loved her."

There was a halt in her sentence. Silence settled through the room. The girl bit her lip, regretting her choice in words the moment they came out. Clara leaned forward, eyebrows scrunched together. "...How old are you?" she asked.

_1...2... 3... 4... 5... 6. It's taking too long._

"I'm almost thirteen," the girl finally answered. Her eyes flickered just a small bit, but enough for both Clara and the Doctor to notice.

"Thirteen?" the Doctor repeated.

"I'm almost thirteen," the girl said again.

"Oh, no, you're not thirteen," the Doctor murmured. "Far from it."

The girl said nothing, jaw stiffly clenched, small hands forming fists under the table.

Clara shared a look with the Doctor. _Don't. Just don't_. "Alright, then," she murmured. "What's your name?"

"My name's Amelie," the girl answered.

"Amelie...?" Clara prompted.

"That's it. Just Amelie."

The corners of the Doctor's mouth turned down. This Amelie was going to be a lot more confusing than he had originally thought.

"Okay, Amelie," he said. "I need you to tell me something. Just one little thing, but it's very, very important. Is that okay?"

Amelie shuffled her feet. "It's not my fault," was all she whispered. Clara's eyebrows shot up, until they were at least a good inch above her eyes.

"...What do you mean?" the Doctor asked haltingly. "What's not your fault?"

Amelie stared at him for a long, long while. Disbelief flashed across her face. Then realization, then panic, then regret. Eyes too old for someone so young.

She broke her gaze and looked away.

"You don't know," she said.

"What? What don't we know?" Clara asked.

"But that's for the best, isn't it?" Amelie continued, like she hadn't heard Clara. "Please say it's for the best."

"We can't help you if we don't know what's going on," the Doctor exclaimed. "Amelie, tell us. You can trust us. I promise. Cross my hearts." As if to prove his point, he did a quick motion across his chest. Clara couldn't help but roll her eyes. But Amelie just seemed to get even more uneasy. Finally, she let out a loud sigh.

"I'm tired," she said. "Let's do something else."

* * *

That night, when Amelie had found a room in the TARDIS (with a slight hesitation, as she still didn't completely trust the Doctor and Clara yet), the Doctor was still puzzling over the conversation they had had earlier. Even the TARDIS buzzed and hummed strangely, and Clara was already sure Amelie wasn't the person they thought she was.

"I don't understand," the Doctor kept saying. "What's not her fault? What don't we know? What's for the best? I hate not knowing!"

Clara rubbed her forehead and let out a large yawn. "And she's not thirteen, is she?"

"No, of course not," the Doctor muttered, banging the side of his head. "There's something just not right about her."

Clara smiled slightly. "We've gotten that far, Doctor."

At that, the Doctor froze, then spun on his heels to peer into Clara's eyes. "What did you say?" he asked in a low voice.

"I said," Clara repeated, leaning back. "We've gotten that far."

The Doctor frowned. "No you didn't. That's not what you said."

"Yes, it is." Clara protested.

"No, you said something else, about different universes," the Doctor argued. "And shadows. Why shadows? What's wrong with the shadows?" His eyes widened. "Unless...no, but that wouldn't..."

"Doctor. I didn't say anything. Are you sure you don't just need some sleep?"

The Doctor didn't reply. He turned back around and faced the console, confusion written on every inch of his face.

"Okay," he said a minute later. "This...is certainly very..."

"Weird?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor grinned. "Exciting."

* * *

Amelie lay awake in bed, arms pinned stiffly to her sides. She couldn't sleep. She wasn't tired. Actually, she was never tired. Amelie wasn't sure why, but ever since she turned seven, sleep just didn't come naturally to her.

She slipped out from under the covers and tip-toed over to the door, pressing her hands and right ear against the surface. Footsteps were coming down the hallway, one light and quick, the other heavier, with longer gaps between each stride. The Doctor and Clara.

Amelie reached down, fumbling for the lock, but realized there wasn't one there. The footsteps halted before her room, and Amelie turned and leaped back into bed, bringing the covers high above her face. The door creaked open. Clara stood at the doorway, eyebrows scrunched together. Amelie swore her eyes locked with the companion's. She swore Clara's eyebrows raised. But in less than two seconds, Clara had whipped back into the hallway, the door shutting with a gentle thud behind her.

Amelie let out her breath, then placed a timid foot onto the warm cream-colored rug. Her hand rested onto the doorknob, and after a few minutes of hesitation, she turned it carefully, pulling the door open with as little sound as possible. Clara and the Doctor were just disappearing around the corner. Amelie quickly followed, sticking to the shadows, keeping her feet light and steady.

"I don't trust her," Clara was whispering. Amelie had to bite back a snort. She didn't trust Amelie? Amelie didn't trust her.

"She's not just a little girl," Clara continued. "Actually...I'm not sure she's even that."

Amelie frowned, and inched closer, daring to peek around the wall.

"Maybe we're overreacting," the Doctor pointed out. "Maybe she's perfectly normal."

There was a short silence on Clara's end.

"Maybe," she said a while later.

Amelie backed into her room, and climbed into her bed, mouth drawn down. She's not just a little girl...actually...I'm not sure she's even that. What in the world could Clara have meant?

* * *

Clara was sipping at her coffee when the Doctor plopped down, flour all over his hands. He was wearing his red bow tie today, which was currently slightly crooked, and a cooking apron hung from his neck, obviously too small for someone his height.

"Well?" the Doctor asked. Clara swallowed, the soothing warm liquid hitting the back of her throat like honey after breathing in smoke.

"It's not horrible," she decided. "Better than I thought you would do."

The Doctor frowned. "I'm trying to figure out if that's an insult or a compliment."

Clara smiled. "Don't worry. It's a compliment."

The Doctor gently pushed a plate of omelets her way, eyes wide and hopeful. Clara picked up a nearby fork and stabbed at the food, cautiously putting a piece in her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"It's actually...it's actually really good."

The Doctor beamed, his whole face lighting up.

And at that precise moment, Amelie decided to burst into the kitchen, panting, gripping a black-and-white paper in her hands. Clara jumped, and spun around to face her, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Where've you been?" she asked suspiciously, governess-mode on.

"Out," Amelie replied tensely. There was a very short stare-down between the two of them, then Amelie reached out and handed the paper to the Doctor.

"What's this?" he asked. Amelie shrugged.

"I found it outside the TARDIS," she said.

"How did you know it's called the TARDIS?"

"Well..." Amelie scratched her head and cleared her throat. "You mentioned it."

The Doctor and Clara didn't even bother to examine her for signs of a lie.

Clara leaned over the table to read the newspaper the Doctor was holding.

"What are we looking at?" she asked.

The Doctor traced his finger along the articles, muttering under his breath. "I don't know...but someone must have left the newspaper here on purpose."

"But nobody knows we're here," Clara said after the Doctor had flipped the page (with quite a lot of struggling). "Right?"

"Well, technically, yes, except-"

But before he could finish his sentence, he froze.

"_Oh_..."

"What? What is it?" Clara asked, leaning forward even more. The Doctor held the newspaper up for her to see. Clara's mouth dropped open.

"Ah. That's not good."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Wow, I really do suck with commitment. I swear, I didn't mean to not update, but I guess I've just been really busy the past few days. Weeks. Months. Same difference...anyway...here's chapter 3 :) enjoy**

"Two-twenty-seven Millers Street," the Doctor declared, waving the piece of paper around as he marched forward. "Two-twenty-seven Millers Street. What a boring address."

"Well at least we have an address," Clara pointed out, jogging to keep up. "This could be worse."

"Boring addresses are the worst," the Doctor retorted. Clara was torn between rolling her eyes and laughing her head off. Amelie, however, who was standing next to them, did not appear amused.

"Do we have to go there?" she asked. "I'm sure it's nothing important."

Clara gave her a strange look. "Well, why shouldn't we go?"

"Oh, you know," Amelie ducked her head, sentence left unfinished.

"That's what I thought."

"Clara, what street are we at now?" the Doctor asked, abruptly changing the subject. Clara glanced over at a nearby sign.

"Um...Eleventh street," she replied. The Doctor grinned, about to say something incredibly witty, but his ego was quickly deflated by a 'Your-chin-looks-big-when-you-smile' comment from his companion.

"Oi!" he shouted, hurrying to catch up with a now-far-away Clara. "That's not nice."

"It's kind of true," Amelie piped up from beside him.

"That's not nice either."

Clara glanced over at them. "You two are such children," she muttered. "Well, I suppose Amelie is a child. And...you are too... I guess."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing...Anyway. Millers Street, you said?"

"Two-twenty-seven Millers Street. Most boring address ever."

Clara grabbed the Doctor's and Amelie's hands and began tugging them forward. "Unless there's something wrong with my eyes, I'm pretty sure this-" she pointed a finger at a large sign "-is what we're looking for."

Welcome to Millers Street.

* * *

A loud knock echoed through the house, its sound piercing the silence.

Emma's head whipped up, her blonde hair swinging around to hit her face.

She drew her knees close to her chest and hugged them, pressing her head back into her hands. They were coming for her.

There was another knock, then a shout from outside.

_"Hello-"_ came the voice. _"Anyone home?"_

Footsteps passed her room, went down the stairs, then headed for the door. Emma gripped at her hair, pulling so hard a few handfuls came out. She heard the front door creak open.

_"Who are you?"_

_"I'm the Doctor. And this is Clara. And Amelie."_

_"If you're selling something, we don't want it."_

_"Oh, we're not selling anything, don't worry."_

There was a pause.

_"What are you doing here, then?"_

_"I have a few questions for you, Miss."_

_"I'm afraid I'm busy right now."_

_"Oh, no, you're never too busy for this. Come on, invite me in."_

_"Doctor..."_ another voice. A woman's. _"Be polite."_

_"I'm being very polite!"_

The door opened the slightest bit more. _"I suppose...for just a few minutes..."_

Footsteps through the doorway, footsteps into the house. A single creaking floorboard.

_"Emma! Come down, will you?"_

_"Emma? Who's that?"_

_"Oh, my little sister. She's very shy."_

Emma rose to her feet unsteadily and made her way to the door. She pulled it open and set one foot in front of the other, making her way down.

There was a man sitting on the couch, with a bow tie and floppy hair. Next to him was a brunette girl, and next to her was a small child with long blonde hair.

_"I don't see anyone,"_ the girl murmured.

_"Like I said, she's very shy."_

The man frowned. _"Where is she?"_

_"I'm right here,"_ Emma said, reaching her hand out towards the trio.

_"Shh, Emma! Listen and don't speak. Or I'll have to send you back."_

Emma recoiled, jerking her arm away.

_"Back? Back where?"_ the small girl asked.

_"Oh..."_ A fake, teeth-less smile. _"Back...there."_

_"Back there?"_

_"Just...Emma's little time out place."_

_A very long silence._

_"Miss...what was it again?"_

_"Parris. Miss Parris."_

_"Miss Parris, are you aware of the murder that took place in this house just a month ago?"_

_"Why, of course."_

_"And,"_ the brunette woman said. _"Can you tell us who was murdered?"_

_"Oh, I can't be too sure,_" the shrill voice lifted into the air. _"My memory hasn't been working quite well the past few days."_

An even longer pause.

_"I regret to tell you this, Miss Parris, but...the victim...it was Emma."_

Emma stumbled back, her heel digging into the floor.

_"Ow!"_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Oh, nothing. Just a...minor headache."_

_"I need you to tell me something, Miss Parris."_ The man didn't seem sympathetic at all.

_"Yes, what is it?"_

_"How come you can see Emma, but nobody else can?"_

Emma sank to the ground, rocking back and forth, her nails making large scratches on the wood.

_"Emma! Stop it!"_

She stopped.

_"Answer me, Miss Parris. I need you to answer me."_

_A shake of the head._

_"Who are you?! What do you want from me?"_

_"I just want answers."_

_"Well you won't be getting any."_

_"Miss Parris-"_

_"Emma! Go back!"_

Back where?

_"Back there!"_

Emma spun on her heel and ran, out of the house, out of the garden, into the woods, twigs scratching at her arms.

_"Oh my God..."_

_"She's fainted."_

_"Doctor...what did she mean 'back there'? And isn't Emma dead? I mean...she disappeared, didn't she?"_

_"I...don't know. I actually, properly don't know."_

_"Well what do we do?"_

_"I'm afraid we're leaving with more questions than we had when we came."_

**So...what do you think? Are you confused? Bored? Thinking I need a beta? Leave a review!**

**And I know quite a lot of people are going to think they have an idea where this is going**

**Trust me, you're probably wrong :)**


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